


Already There

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, First Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:33:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sudden realization forces Blair to make a hasty decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Already There

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short little piece. Alternating POV's;   
>  Dedicated to Liz & Kaite, my kindred spirits :)

## Already There

by Kylia

Author's webpage: <http://kyliasworld.cjb.net>

Author's disclaimer: Nobody belongs to me, unfortunately. They belong to Pet Fly, and a few other people I don't know.

* * *

I sit on the edge of my bed and sigh heavily as I look around the room. It's empty now. No, not completely empty. It still has the futon, obviously, since I'm sitting on it. And the desk, and all those things that were here when I came to live in the loft, for one week, over four _years_ ago. 

I should have known, way back then, that moving in here, was a really, really bad idea. From an anthropological view, it just screamed 'going native'. But I didn't think about it then. Didn't even question how much I had inserted myself into his life. 

Until one day I discovered that I had ceased to exist. I wasn't me anymore. I was just an extension of him. Not that that was a bad thing, necessarily. But it was. A really bad thing. So bad a thing that it didn't even register on the bad-o-meter. 

So here I am, doing something I never could have believed I would be doing, rectifying a mistake I made nearly four years ago. 

I'm leaving. 

I keep repeating the phrase over and over again inside my head, but frankly I just can't believe it. I never thought when I moved in here after the warehouse blew up that I'd still be here all these years later. I never thought there would come a day when I would run, not walk to the nearest exit, to get so far away from my 'holy grail' that I couldn't even recall what it was about him which had drew me here in the first place. 

But that, my friend is the crux of the problem. I had an epiphany of sorts this afternoon, and it has led me here. 

To the loft, to my home for the past handful of years, to the realization that I either have to drum up enough courage to walk out that door and never look back, or drive myself insane with things that I can never have, things I have no business in even _wanting_. 

I stand up, realizing that the longer I sit here, the more likely I am to fail to leave before Jim returns. And I am uncertain what will happen if I am still here when he comes home, and finds me preparing to leave. 

* * *

As I sit at the stoplight, waiting rather impatiently for it to turn green, I let my mind wander. Something is wrong. I can feel it, almost as if it's a living thing. And the worst part is, I'm not even certain what _it_ is. 

All I know is things were... fine. Okay, maybe fine is a bit of an exaggeration, or obfuscation, as Blair would say. But relatively fine. We had returned to some realm of normalcy after the dissertation fiasco. 

Blair had finished his firearms training, gotten his detective's shield, and become my 'official' partner, in all things. Well, again that's an exaggeration. Blair was in my partner in almost everything. It was the 'almost' that was causing me the trouble. 

The only way I wasn't partnered with my best friend, was the one way I wanted to be, more than anything. But that was the one thing, I wouldn't have, couldn't have. And that was okay. I have dealt with it. So long as he's still my partner, my best friend, my Guide, I'm okay. *We're* okay. 

But even as I think these thoughts, I realize that we're not okay. Something's wrong. I don't know what it is or how long it has gone on, only that it has. It is _still_ going on. 

And despite my acknowledgement of... something... going on, I still probably wouldn't have even made a conscious note of it. 

If it hadn't been for Simon. 

Simon, my close friend and captain, who is far more observant than some people give him credit for. He has, on several occasions in the months since the dissertation disaster, pulled me aside and asked how things were. How Blair was, how I was. Even on occasion, how _we_ were. Like, _WE_ were a single entity. Perhaps we are. 

Today started out no different than any other. After we arrived at the station and were briefed on the latest information regarding one of our opened cases, we went our separate ways. 

I made some phone calls, worked on paperwork, while Blair took a trip down to records and then to forensics to get the latest reports. He was scheduled for some time on the firing range today while I interviewed a possible witness. We were supposed to meet for lunch. 

We never did. 

Perhaps that should have been my first clue that whatever this _something_ is, was about to hit ground zero. 

It didn't though. I returned to the station after eating lunch alone. I hadn't been at my desk for more than a few seconds when Simon called me into his office. I could tell by the way he stood, and the concern radiating off of him in waves that whatever reason he had called me in, had nothing to do with work. 

Simon was concerned, or so he said. Blair had shown up while I was supposed to be meeting him for lunch. He had seemed... off somehow, although Simon doesn't pay as near as much attention to my partner as I do. At least I don't think he does. I hope he doesn't. 

Simon said he had walked into the bull pen, spent all of five seconds at our joined desks and then made a bee-line for the doors, stopping only long enough to tell Simon that he had to go. Some emergency had come up, but he wouldn't say what. Blair had made some flimsy excuse about not meeting me for lunch and how he would see him on Tuesday. 

We had just finished up a long couple of days in court on the tale end of a messy murder case, so we had three days off. 

If Simon's being concerned enough about my partner's odd behavior wasn't strange enough, things only got more bizarre. Our captain then told me that the firing range had called, looking for Blair. 

Apparently he had signed in, and then disappeared. It had been several hours and he had never signed out, and when they had gone to look for him, they found him gone. In and of itself that wouldn't be odd. Sometimes people forget to sign out, and most cops don't make a habit of chatting cheerily to everyone they meet. 

Most cops. But Blair Sandburg isn't most cops, and he had gotten to know Gary, the guy at the firing range. So when Blair hadn't signed out, or even stop by to say goodbye, he had gotten worried. Hence the phone call to Simon. 

The combination of Gary's phone call and Blair's odd behavior had gotten to our captain. Of course I couldn't really shed any light on what had happened since my partner hadn't shown up for lunch. 

Although everything had been fine earlier in the day, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had in fact happened. That something was wrong with my Guide. So I left, which brings me to where I am now. 

Sitting in Cascade afternoon traffic on my way home, hoping to find Blair there, and an explanation for whatever it was that happened. But the closer I get to the loft, the worse I feel and suddenly I'm struck with the knowledge that I don't have time to waste at red lights. 

The light must realize that too because it turns green just as I'm contemplating another way out of this nightmare traffic. I practically run down the car in front of me in an effort to reach the loft. 

When I pull into the parking lot, I search out Blair's car, relief flooding me when I see it. My relief is short lived when I take a closer look, after climbing out of the truck. And find the Volvo filled to capacity with stuff. Blair's stuff. All of the things that belong to Blair. The things that make the loft more than just a place you go to sleep at. They make it a home. 

And to find them piled into Blair's car makes my chest heavy and my heart constrict at what that means. I run into the building and up the stairs, not wanting to risk getting stuck in the elevator. 

When I enter the loft, I am comforted, if only slightly by the sound of his heartbeat, although it isn't beating normally. It sounds rapid and pained. And I can feel the despair coming off of him in waves. 

Registering all of this, I can't understand why it is he is leaving. Obviously he doesn't want to, unless I am misinterpreting the signs. I step towards his room cautiously, not wanting to see the emptiness of that room, but knowing that I must. 

He's standing in his room looking around, almost as if he wants to memorize everything. I lean against the door as casually as I can muster. 

"Were you even going to tell me?" I ask quietly. 

He jumps and I can tell he hadn't heard me come in. His shock pleases me, if for no other reason than to realize that I caught him in time. He turns around then and the look in his eyes stops me cold. 

The surprise at me catching him is there, as is the fear of what will happen next. But underlying all of that is the pain. He's trying hard to hide it, and if I didn't know him so well it probably would have worked. But since I do know him so well, it only makes me realize that he doesn't really want to be doing this. 

So I am left to ask why. And I do. 

"Why?" 

* * *

I almost laugh at the question. Well, not at the question itself. Just at the absurdity of it. As observant as Jim has become in the past few years, due to his enhanced senses, he still can't see what is right in front of his face. Not that I can blame him. I mean, I wasn't even aware of what had happened until today. Maybe if I had been _aware_ I could have stopped it somehow, but I doubt it. 

I'm not naive enough to believe that I could have gotten away without an explanation. If not today, now, than on Tuesday at the latest, when we're scheduled to return to work. Jim would demand no less. 

I am moving out of the Loft, not his life. I will still see him everyday at work, if not more often than that. I just won't live with him. I have begun to think that even that wouldn't be enough to stop what was quickly spiraling out of my control, but I had to try. 

I also knew that once the question was asked, I had to answer. With the truth. There was no other choice. 

No lies, no exaggerations, no obfuscation's. Nothing but the truth. So here I was. 

He asked, so I had to answer. 

I look at him and am struck with the look in his eyes. He's leaning against the doorway and his body is stiff like he wants to come closer but he isn't sure if that's smart, so instead he stays where he is. 

I move past him, wanting to get away from the emptiness of my room. My old room. But the rest of the loft isn't much better. 

I hadn't realized how much of my personal stuff had migrated from Jim's spare bedroom to the rest of the loft. It just brought forth another reminder of just how much I had infiltrated his life. 

"What happened, Chief?" He asks me as he follows me out into the living room. 

For a moment I'm not sure what I should say. Maybe make something up? But then I remember my promise to be completely honest. I sigh, knowing that what I'm about to say may be the undoing of everything we have accomplished these past four years. Maybe that's a good thing, although the very idea of being so completely separated from him makes my heart stop and freeze in its rapid pumping. 

"I realized something today." I begin and I really hope he lets me speak and say what I need to without asking too many questions. He's remaining silent and has flopped down on the couch so I think maybe he will. 

I turn to him and give him what he must think is a strange look. "You ever feel like a large but ill-equipped and defenseless country?" I ask him. 

He's got this strange look on his face as if he's trying to comprehend the question. Finally I take pity on him and continue. "The country of Jim." I whisper softly. "Large and powerful in the general sense, but unable to stop the complete and utter invasion of the odd little world of Blair." I smile then, more at the irony of my comparison than anything else. 

I move away from him and begin pacing, hoping I can explain myself so that he can understand what it is I am talking about. "I have invaded your life. Infiltrated it like some deadly virus. Some bug that can't be annihilated." I pause and wait for him to make some half-hearted rebuttal, when he doesn't, I continue. 

"I didn't even realize what was happening, until it was too late. And it is, too late." 

"Sandburg." His voice was fierce, but not angry and I wondered what he was thinking. What he was feeling. I haven't even gotten to the good stuff yet. 

I walk toward the living room and sit down on the couch, waiting to see what it is he's going to say. 

"You aren't some... parasite." His words are measured, level. "You are my partner. My friend. My Guide." He turns to me then and grabs my wrist in a strong grip. 

I turn my head and look him in the eyes, willing myself to appear indifferent, or casual at the very least. 

"It's not too late. It never has been, and it never will be." His eyes are so filled with emotion and his voice is so soft, so filled with... something, that I can't even imagine what he's feeling now. 

Does he know what he's saying? 

* * *

I lessen my grip on his wrist and hope he can see in my eyes what I am trying to say. What it is I mean. What I hope he wants it to mean. He stares at me for several long seconds. Excruciating seconds. 

Then he leans back against the couch and sighs heavily. 

"I went to the firing range." He speaks softly and I train all my senses on him, hoping for some clue as to what it is he has been trying to tell me. 

"I got there a little early and spoke to Gary for a few minutes and then I went back. After about twenty minutes I decided to take a break. I went to get some coffee. I didn't want to get anything to eat 'cause we were supposed to meet for lunch. Anyway, as I was on my way back to my little booth, I turned the corner and passed a group of guys. I think they were from narcotics. I recognized a few of them from that fund-raiser we went to last month." 

He pauses and takes a deep breath and continues to stare straight ahead. I am getting this sick feeling in my gut but I don't say anything. I want to hear what he has to say. What could have happened to make him want to leave me? 

"I don't think they saw me. At least I hope not." He shook his head slightly. "I was just going to walk right past them, but then I caught a bit of their conversation, and well, I couldn't resist." He stops talking for a moment and turns to look at me, almost as if he is trying to gauge my reaction. I nod at him slightly, letting him know that I am ready to hear whatever it is. 

"They were talking about you." 

I look at him blankly, not sure what it was he had heard. He sighs again and continues. "About me." I raise an eyebrow at that. Then he speaks again. 

"About us." 

"Us?" I ask and I know my voice sounds odd. 

He smiles wryly at me. "It seems that they, and a good percentage of the department, from what I gathered, thinks you and I are more than friends and partners." He hesitates a minute, "They think we're lovers." 

He stops there and the sad look is back on his face and I can't help but feel a great loss at the realization that this is what is causing him to leave. 

"That bothers you?" I ask him, not really wanting to here the answer, but needing to. 

He laughs then. "Yes, it does. Do you want to know why?" 

I nod, unable to speak. 

"Because all of these people are going around believing that you and I, are together, happily in love. And none of them have any problems with it. Those cops today weren't talking about us in a bad way, they were just mentioning us. And it wasn't like they disapproved or anything. It was just a statement of fact, or so they thought." He turns towards me as he speaks quietly. "What bothers me is that it isn't true." 

* * *

There. I've said it. I've admitted it. I told my best friend that not only did the police department in general think that we were a couple but that the problem I had with that belief wasn't in what they thought, but that it wasn't true. 

"I can't do this Jim." I tell him as I stand up. 

"What?" He asks me calmly as if he was just wondering what the score to the Jags game was. 

"It was okay when I didn't know. When I didn't admit it. When I was in denial, or just plain ignorant of the truth. But now... Now I can't, not anymore. I can't pretend any longer. That despite everything that we have, our trust and friendship, and partnership, I want more. I can't sit here in this loft and watch as you go out with yet another woman, who more than likely should be in jail." 

I sat down heavily in one of the chairs at the dining room table, waiting for his words. Words I wasn't entirely certain would be uttered, but thought nonetheless. 

"Chief, in case you haven't noticed, I haven't dated anyone since that mess with Veronica." 

Those were not the words I thought he was going to utter, and therefore shocked me into a momentary silence. Well, momentary for me, but apparently he wasn't finished speaking. 

"Chief, Blair, I don't want anyone... else." 

In that instant everything changed. My entire world seemed to tilt on its axis. Does he mean what I think he means? 

"Anyone else?" Did I just croak? I shake my head, trying to get rid of the fuzzy feeling, which is now occupying most of my brain. 

I stand up and begin to pace again, intent on my prepared speech. "Look, Jim. We're still friends, partners. We just won't live together anymore. I just can't live here, know what I want from you, and can't possible have. If you want to get a new partner, or... whatever, I'll understand." 

I know the words sound hallow, like some sort of pre-recorded message, which is basically what it is. But if I deviate from the script, even in the slightest, everything will be lost, if it isn't already. 

"What do you want?" His voice is quiet, impossibly so, and filled with a note I can't quite grasp, for fear of what it might mean. 

I walk slowly into the living room, towards the couch, as I begin to speak. 

"You. Now, always. I want to wake up in the morning and feel your arms around me, keeping me warm with your body heat. I want to have breakfast and go off to work, knowing that what we have is real, and not a fantasy. I want to live our lives out with the knowledge that we exist solely for each other." I pause, knowing there was so much more I could say, so much I wanted to say, but also knowing I had already said too much. 

"We're already there." His words are soft, and this time I can't mistake the emotion there for anything other than what it is. Love. 

"What?" I turn towards him. 

"We're already there." He repeats and my confusion must have been showing on my face because he smiles slightly. "Not the part about me keeping you warm at night, but the rest of it. It's true, all of it." 

He reaches out a hand and I am so stunned that I allow him to pull me onto the couch, onto his lap. His arms wrap around my body and I can feel the emotion radiating from him as I sigh and lean into the embrace. 

I can feel the love wash over me, through me. My love for him, his love for me, our love for each other. It is at this moment that I realize I had been wrong. I wasn't an extension of him, nor was he an extension of me. We existed together, two halves of the same heart, the same soul. 

Also, I realize he had been right. 

We _were_ already there. 

* * *


End file.
